


Clear Sky

by TheMerryPanda



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Female My Unit | Byleth, Gen, POV Third Person, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Spoilers for Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24585307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMerryPanda/pseuds/TheMerryPanda
Summary: A retelling of the beginning events of Fire Emblem: Three Houses, intended to give a clearer explanation for why the characters made the choices they did.Or, if someone were to novelize this tale, here's how I would begin.(If you're looking for unique content, go to Chapter 2. I did this as writing practice for myself more than anything else.)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg & My Unit | Byleth, Jeralt Reus Eisner & My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	1. Inevitable Encounters: A Skirmish at Dawn

**Prologue: Inevitable Encounters**

_Remire Village (Empire Territory)_

_Sunday, Day 20 of the Great Tree Moon – nighttime_

Jeralt Reus Eisner rapped on the door to his daughter’s room. “Hey, time to wake up.” He heard her stir, then resumed tidying up and packing up the last of their few belongings in the small cottage at the edge of town that the Remire villagers were so kind as to lend them in exchange for their services. Dawn ringing in the 21st day of the Great Tree Moon would arrive within an hour.

He just finished packing when he heard his daughter leave from her quarters. Jeralt turned to her, her rested expression as neutral as ever. Every day, the girl looked more and more like her mother. She was now Sitri’s age when they lost her.

Byleth has dark teal blue hair and eyes, not dissimilar to her mother’s forest green, but she chose to keep her hair shorter, opting to let it fall to her collar bones rather than growing it down her back. Any longer and it would get in her face, she mentioned once, and ribbons to tie it back gave her headaches.

Byleth is a wonderful blend of the union. She adopted her mother’s petite figure, but her father’s fierce strength. She was quick on her feet and sharp witted, and could command the members of their mercenary band with ease, once they got past their first impression of her being cold-hearted. Also like her mother, Byleth found it difficult to express emotion. Although she had been this way since birth, Jeralt’s tendency to avoid sharing his own emotions didn’t help to develop her expressiveness. This aided in her reputation as a fighter of unflinching courage, but made it difficult for anyone else to see her as human, much to her distaste.

Jeralt occasionally wondered what it would take to get his child to smile. He had stumbled on finding out how to make Sitri smile by accident. He was telling a story of one of his missions as a knight to a group of children he was teaching sword combat, some event that took place on the northwestern coast of Fódlan, and when he concluded, he turned to find Sitri standing there with wide, curious eyes and a small, contented smile. After he dismissed the kids, she asked him about the flora of the area, as she had read that the nearby Albinea across the sea was known for its rare and beautiful flowers. Since then, he shared stories with her as well and paid closer attention to the terrain when he was sent out on missions so he could describe them more fully to her. Before he realized it, he was returning flowers and other gifts to Sitri and working for wider, happier smiles from his flower of Garreg Mach.

Now, more than twenty years later, she was gone, but their dear child Byleth carried on her legacy. She too enjoyed stories, but Jeralt learned to read that in her eyes rather than in her smile.

As far as Byleth knows, she is at least seventeen years old. One of her earliest memories outside of those shared with Jeralt was that of some schooling from one of Jeralt’s employers, and upon learning the concept of birthdays, she counted each new year, the first of the Lone Tree Moon, as a new year of her own life. Last year, Jeralt asked her how old she thought she was. She responded sixteen since she began counting the years. Although a woman, she had a youthful face that could pass as sixteen rather than her actual nineteen then. He asked her to report the younger number if anyone else asked. In exchange, he disclosed to her her actual birthdate: the 20th day of the Horsebow Moon. He didn’t share with her the actual year of her birth, however. The less she knew of her origin, the less likely her mother’s midwife could find out she was alive after all, and perhaps the less danger she could be put in.

Byleth’s eyes were clearly awake, but she didn’t voluntarily look him in the eye right away after setting down her small sack of belongings. Something bothered her, Jeralt recognized, something that happened recently. It wasn’t the first time she woke up with eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion. They were the same eyes Sitri would show when she pondered on a subject.

“Were you having that dream again?” he asked.

She exhaled deeply, then nodded. Over the last few years, Byleth only dreamed one recurring dream: two massive armies clashing on a vast field, the leaders of each army wielding mystical weapons unlike anything she’d seen. The battle ended with the woman leading one army defeating the man leading the other, repeatedly stabbing him in anger. “He’s gone now, Mother,” she’d whisper as she gingerly held the man’s bloodied weapon when she completed her quest for revenge. In memory and in old texts, Jeralt could not recall a battle like the one Byleth described for over three centuries. Recently, however, this dream was followed by another of a young girl sleeping on a massive stone throne.

“I was dreaming about a young girl.” Byleth finally replied. “The one with pointed ears and green hair longer than she is tall.”

“You’ve described her to me before. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like that.”

“This time was different. She woke up and asked for my name and day of birth. We share the same birthdate.”

Jeralt shook his head, unsure of what his daughter’s unusual dream could mean. He heard the other members of their mercenary band begin gathering outside, and knew it was due time to leave Remire Village. “In any case, just put that out of your mind for now. The battlefield is no place for idle thoughts. Risking your life is part of the job for mercenaries like us. Letting your mind wander is a sure way to get yourself killed.”

“Yes, Father.” Byleth nodded in agreement.

Jeralt seemed content with her reply. “Okay, time to get moving. Our next job is in the Kingdom. I told you before: it’s far from here, so we’ll need to leave at dawn.”

“Of course.” Byleth was already packed for the journey. She learned long ago to live only on what she could carry, to pack light and to not to get attached.

They heard some commotion outside. The voices of their fellow mercenaries gradually grew louder, and were met by a set of newer voices. Young voices, like that of Byleth’s.

“Hm?” Jeralt wondered, and he peered out the window. “Good grief,” he muttered. “Everyone is already waiting for us outside.”

Suddenly, one fellow mercenary slammed the door open. “Jeralt! Sir! Sorry to barge in, but your presence is needed.”

“What’s happened?”

* * *

**Chapter 1: A Skirmish at Dawn**

Lingering thoughts of the young girl quickly left her mind. Byleth followed her father outside their temporary dwelling to meet three young adults. At first mention, she felt mild annoyance towards the new guests. Their request would likely set back their schedule some, further delaying arriving to their next assignment, and further keeping them in Remire Village. She didn’t know how to explain it, but she never felt quite at ease there, no matter how many times they revisited the village.

The first thing that struck her, to her mild surprise, is that the young adults, unlike others who requested their help, were not panicked. Concerned about their situation, yes, but they weren’t going to drop dead from terror. Byleth was grateful for this; it meant that they would likely be able to aid in their own problem rather than leaving it all to her and her father. The second thing was their attire; they were not ordinary poor commoners, she could tell that much. Children of wealthy merchants, at least, or possibly of noble status.

There was one girl in the trio. She had ghostly white-blonde hair down her back, her bangs tied back with lavender-colored ribbons that matched her eyes. She wore a black shirt and jacket with bronze trim and thick red stockings under her shorts, a style similar to Byleth’s under her black robe. Her composure carried a stern and confident air, and judging by the brilliant red color of her one-shoulder capelet, she was of the Adrestian Empire. Remire Village sat at the edge of its territory.

One of the two boys had dark soot brown hair with some locks forming a small braid at the side of his head. He had lightly tanned skin, a small hoop earring in one ear, and fern green eyes. He wore a black uniform with gold trim similar to that the girl wore, but his style consisted of a knee-length coat over a shirt, harem pants, and a dandelion yellow one-shoulder capelet, marking him as a member of the Leicester Alliance. He was calm and collected, perhaps too casual considering their situation.

The other boy, the tallest of the three, immediately noticed Byleth and Jeralt and bowed. The other two young adults simply turned to face them. If this boy’s formality and manner of speech didn’t designate him as someone from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, the deep blue one-shoulder capelet did. He also wore a black uniform, a tunic with silver trim, trousers, and lightly armored gauntlets and boots. Some golden strands of hair fell in front of his face, and his eyes were piercing blue like winter ice.

Teenagers from all three territories of Fódlan, here? Curious, Byleth thought.

“Please forgive our intrusion.” The blond spoke as he unbended from his bow. “We wouldn’t bother you were the situation not dire.”

“What do a bunch of kids like you want at this hour?” Jeralt asked crossly.

“We’re being pursued by a group of bandits.” He replied. “I can only hope that you will be so kind as to lend your support.”

Jeralt’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Bandits? Here?”

Byleth was also surprised; they had thought they had already driven out the last of the bandits in the area a few days ago, and had lingered in the village to help them recover from the raids.

“It’s true.” The white-blonde girl answered coolly. “They attacked us while we were at rest in our camp.”

“We’ve been separated from our companions and we’re outnumbered.” The tanned boy continued. “They’re after our lives… not to mention our gold.”

Jeralt nodded, and pondered for a moment. “I’m impressed you’ve been staying so calm considering the situation. I…” He stared at the pattern and design of their black clothing. “Wait. That uniform…”

He didn’t get to finish his thought, as another mercenary ran up to them, panting to catch his breath.

“Bandits spotted just outside the village!” He announced. “There are a lot of them.”

Jeralt’s already sullen expression grew grim. “I guess they followed you all the way here.” He concluded, looking at the three young adults before turning to his daughter. “We can’t abandon this village now. Come on, let’s move. Hope you’re ready.”

Byleth nodded. Whether she felt ready or not, she would quickly become ready. She would have to; bandits were already appearing from the forest.

“Thank you.” The blond boy bowed his head. “We are in your debt.”

Jeralt manned a horse and turned to his daughter. “Watch these kids. Let’s take care of those thieves before they overrun the village.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jeralt took off towards the edge of the forest with his fellow mercenaries, leaving Byleth to watch over the three young adults.

She kept in mind her father’s training, training from since she was a child and nearly a decade of those years applied to their mercenary work. Byleth unsheathed her sword, and watched as the three nobles equipped themselves with their own weapons from the remaining supply next to the nearly packed handcart.

“I presume you each have fighting experience with those?” she inquired.

Before any of them could respond, she noticed one bandit quickly running up towards them from a village outpost. He was clever enough to hide in the shadows, but made the grave error of running well ahead of his allies.

“Red!” Byleth shouted, gesturing behind her the Adrestian.

The girl turned just in time to raise her battleaxe, close the space between her and the bandit, and smack her axe against the bandit’s head. She hit him with a blunt side rather than the sharp edge, but it was enough to instantly render the bandit unconscious at best, dead at worst. Regardless, the stench of spilled blood would only be delayed for a short time.

She’s reluctant to kill, Byleth noted, but able to incapacitate. Would the other two be as well? She would have to be careful to make sure they don’t get killed from their own hesitation.

“Good work.” Byleth commented quickly before pointing out towards a clearing near the edge of the forest. “We’ll need to get that outpost over there to see what’s left of those bandits. Before we go in, could you each tell me your names?”

“Claude.” The Leicester boy piped in first.

“Dimitri.” The other boy answered.

“Edelgard.”

Byleth nodded. “Thank you.” She gestured out toward the outpost. “Let’s move.”

The boys and Byleth caught up to Edelgard and they ran for cover into a set of bushes and leafy tree saplings halfway between the cabin and outpost before more bandits appeared.

“It wouldn’t do for us to fall in a place like this.” Dimitri muttered as he positioned himself between Byleth and Edelgard. “Please, lend us your strength. Let’s work together to drive out these thieves!”

Byleth said nothing as three bandits drew closer, and she dodged one arrow. Claude shot one with his bow and an arrow, and Dimitri pierced another with his lance. Byleth defeated yet another with her sword, and the four continued toward the outpost, delving deeper into the forest.

When they reached the outpost, Byleth rapidly ascended its tower by ladder. Three more bandits appeared in the east near a hill, among them one she predicted to be the bandit’s leader.

The bandit leader grinned wickedly when he spotted the three young adults, then his eyes widened when he made eye contact with Byleth. Other mercenaries appeared behind her. The bandit leader then swore. “Why are there mercenaries in the village?” he groaned. “Guess we’ll have to deal with them too.”

“Kostas–”

One of his lackeys was immediately struck down by Jeralt’s lance as he raced by.

“What the?!” Kostas’s jaw dropped as he took a long look at the man on horseback. “Aren’t you Jeralt the Blade Breaker? What’s a renowned mercenary like you doing here?”

“I’m the one who should be complaining.” Jeralt answered. “I’m caught up in the mess you started.”

“Jeralt? Why does that name sound familiar?”

Byleth shrugged off Edelgard’s question. Her father was well known by many in Fódlan, nobles and commoners alike, some for his efficient mercenary work, others for drinking tavern regulars under the table and not paying his tab.

Two more bandits appeared from the top of a hill and began to approach the young adults and mercenaries. Claude shot an arrow at Kostas, which struck him in the shoulder.

Kostas growled angrily at Claude as he tore the arrow out of his arm, using one hand to snap it in two before casting it to the ground. “I’m gonna kill you where you stand.”

Jeralt used the opportunity to strike at Kostas’s ally and distract him once more.

Byleth scaled down the outpost tower. “Dimitri, Claude, take out those bandits coming down the hill. Edelgard and I will take the others.”

“We’re on it.”

The two boys approached the hill, the bandits quickly losing their height advantage as they raced to try to offer Kostas aid.

“You have a strange aura about you…” Edelgard observed about Byleth. “You say you’re a mercenary, so show me what you can do.”

Again, Byleth shrugged off her comment. She was too busy taking down the bandit who stood by Kostas and now charged after them while Kostas attacked Jeralt.

Jeralt glanced over to Byleth only a couple times throughout the skirmish, unfortunately enough times for Kostas to catch on, realizing Byleth was the Blade Breaker’s infamous young companion, the Ashen Demon. Byleth had overheard others describe her as the young mercenary with “a pretty face and dull eyes”. When Jeralt was distracted by more voices in the forest, Kostas turned towards Byleth.

“Hey!” Kostas shouted. “You with the blank stare! Outta my way!” Byleth glared into his eyes and stood her ground, sword poised and ready to defend herself. Kostas ran up to her with his battleaxe, and she quickly dodged and counterattacked, knocking him flat on his back.

This seemed to faze Kostas for only a moment. When they heard more bandits shouting, he quickly jumped to his feet, then, to Byleth’s surprise, ran towards the Adrestian, whose axe had splintered and broke upon impact when she felled another bandit. Edelgard unsheathed her own dagger, ready to strike, until Byleth ran between them, shielding Edelgard from the attack.

* * *

Byleth anticipated taking a blow to her back that would likely take her life. Instead, time seemed to stop, her surroundings freezing in place and an illusion of the image shattering like glass. In the confines of her mind, she found herself shrouded in darkness and away from Edelgard and Kostas. What had happened?

“Honestly!” A familiar shrill voice exclaimed. “What are you accomplishing with that little stunt?!” Byleth turned to face the young girl of her dreams, who sat on a stone throne. “It’s like you’re trying to get me killed, you fool!”

 _You killed?_ Byleth thought. The young girl sighed deeply with a release of her frustration.

“Well, it’s fine. After all, if you don’t know the value of your own life, you’re not going to protect it very well, are you?” She shook her head. “Course not.”

The young girl began to giggle softly, which confused Byleth. “Well, then. I guess it’s up to me to guide you from now on. Right?” The girl rose from her seat. “You can call me Sothis, but I’m also known as ‘The Beginning’.”

The girl paused again, this time to wonder. “Sothis… yes, that is it. My name is Sothis. And I am also called… The Beginning. But who once called me that?”

“Sothis…” Byleth finally inquired. “What are you talking about?”

“I was not able to recall my name, until just now. And just like that, it came to me. How odd.” Sothis stared at Byleth, her eyebrows furrowing. “That look upon your face…” she commented, turning to anger. “Did you think me a child? A mere child who forgot her own name?! Phooey! That ‘child’ just saved your life! And what does that make you?”

“Less than a child?” Byleth responded dryly.

“Correct! You understand.”

Byleth rolled her eyes. Compared to this girl, she was no child.

“Ha!” Sothis scoffed. “Such arrogance. You look the part, but are you truly an adult? You threw yourself before an axe to save just one young girl.”

Byleth glared bitterly at Sothis. Was it not decent to protect someone who had asked help of her?

Sothis relaxed her shoulders. “Yet all is well, as I have stalled the flow of time for now. You would have died had I not intervened.”

Whether this girl was lying to her or not, Byleth couldn’t quite tell. Regardless, something was in play she has never seen before. Dreams don’t normally become real, let alone mock you and rescue you from an early grave. How was this happening? Unfortunately, this didn’t seem like the right moment to pester her with more questions. Byleth instead opted to bow and express mild gratitude.

“There now. Is gratitude so much to ask? I did deem you worth saving, after all. Though it is only momentary, time has stopped.” Sothis paused to wonder yet again. “However did I manage that…?”

So much for knowing the answer to that question. Byleth began to feel uncomfortable being stuck in standstill, and continued to feel restrained impatience with Sothis. “What now? What will happen when time resumes?”

“When time begins again, the axe will tear into your flesh, and you will surely meet your end.”

Byleth felt a heavy feeling in her gut, as if she could be mildly ill. To say that she was not fond of the idea of waiting for death was an understatement. “Why did you save my life if it was only going to end anyway?” she jeered. “What do you have to gain?”

Sothis gasped. “How rude of you to drag me into this!” She rested a hand on her forehead and rested her elbow in her other hand. “Now, what to do…” she pondered.

“Could you… reverse time?” Byleth suggested.

The idea pleased Sothis. “Of course! I must turn back the hands of time!” She conjured a moving image of concentric circles and various images and analyzed them, seeming to rotate them at the flick of her wrist. “Yes… I do believe it can be done. You really are quite troublesome. I cannot wind back time too far, but all is well. You are aware of what’s to come, which means you can protect yourself this time. Now go! Yes, you who bears the flames within. Drift through the flow of time to find the answers that you seek…”

Sothis faded from Byleth’s vision, leaving her once again in darkness.

* * *

When he heard more bandits shouting, Kostas quickly jumped to his feet, then ran towards the unarmed Adrestian. Edelgard unsheathed her dagger, ready to strike, until Byleth ran between them.

This time, Byleth ran towards Edelgard sooner and faster than before, and instead of turning her back to Kostas, she faced him, sword ready to defend herself and the other girl.

“You’ll die!” Kostas yelled as he leaped to strike them. Byleth parried with her sword, flinging Kostas’s axe away, and once again, knocking him flat on his back. The other bandits started to retreat, taking Kostas with them.

Content with the victory, she lowered her sword.

“Hey, over here!” Claude hollered.

The two girls turned to face the other boys who ran up to them. All three gazed at Byleth with wonder and curiosity, as if they were surprised with the way she worked.

Jeralt caught up to them on his horse. He looked over to the retreating bandits, then back to the young adults and his daughter as he dismounted.

“Hey, did you just–”

“The Knights of Seiros are here!” A loud, deep voice thundered. The five turned to see three knights in white, staring out towards the escaping bandits. “We’ll cut you down for terrorizing our students.” The leading knight with the large pauldron turned to the other two. “Hey, the thieves are running away! Go after them!”

The other two knights disappeared into the woods. Their leader rushed over to the three young adults. He had graying pale brown hair and a matching thin horseshoe mustache.

“The students seem unharmed.” The three young adults nodded in confirmation. The knight turned to see Byleth and Jeralt, pausing first at Byleth. “And… who’s this?”

Jeralt groaned, loud enough for only Byleth to hear. “Ugh… why him?”

Byleth turned to her father in confusion. He’d met this man before?

The knight now gazed at her father, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Captain Jeralt?” he inquired. Upon further inspection, the knight’s olive green eyes widened, and he beamed. “It is you! Goodness, it’s been ages. Don’t you recognize me? It’s Alois! Your old right-hand man! Well, that’s how I thought of myself anyway. It must have been twenty years ago that you went missing without a trace. I always knew that you were still alive!”

“You haven’t changed a bit, Alois. Just as loud as ever.” Jeralt shook his head slightly. “And drop that ‘captain’ nonsense. I’m not your captain anymore. These days I’m just a wandering mercenary, one who has work to do.”

Byleth overheard Edelgard whispering to herself again. “That’s where I’ve heard the name before…”

“Good-bye, old friend.” Jeralt shook hands with Alois, and toed towards their mercenary group’s supply wagon next to the cabin.

“Right…” Alois answered disappointedly. “Good-bye, Captain. Wait!” Alois interrupted himself. “This isn’t how this ends. I insist that you return to the monastery with me!”

“Garreg Mach Monastery…” Jeralt sighed discontentedly. “I suppose this was inevitable.”

Byleth had briefly heard of the monastery before. It was neutral ground between the three territories in the Oghma Mountains. A village at the base of the area was a common stop for some of her fellow mercenaries, but not when Jeralt led them. Her father relentlessly avoided the area. She didn’t understand why until today.

Alois then turned to Byleth. “And how about you, kid? Are you the captain’s child?”

“I’m a bandit.” Byleth replied deadpan to conceal her sarcasm. Perhaps it was the emotion rubbing off from her father, but she began to feel irritated with Alois. His loud voice and overconfidence were beginning to give her a headache. Her father smirked slightly at her reply. Byleth once joked moons ago that her father was a stranger to her when someone asked the same question, but even though they didn’t make it very obviously known that the two are father and daughter, she could still he didn’t like it when she wedged more distance between them this way.

Alois chuckled, which didn’t help the mild headache. He patted Jeralt’s shoulder, much to Jeralt’s irritation. “Great sense of humor, this one. Clearly cut from the same cloth as the captain. Physical differences aside, your mannerisms do remind me of him.” Alois turned back to Byleth. “What is your name?”

“Byleth.” She kept her answer brief and to the point.

“Well, Byleth, I’d love for you to see the monastery too. You will join me, won’t you?”

“I’ll go where my father leads me.”

Jeralt sighed once again. It wasn’t a secret to him that Byleth has been mildly curious about the monastery in the mountains.

“What’s troubling you, captain?” inquired Alois. “You aren’t about to run off again, are you?”

“Even I wouldn’t dare run from the Knights of Seiros.” Jeralt replied.

The two men walked over to the cottage to chat and finish packing up the last of Jeralt and Byleth’s mercenary band’s limited supplies.

 _“The Knights of Seiros…”_ Sothis’s voice rang in Byleth’s head. She winced at the sharpness, then quickly adjusted. _“They do seem rather skilled.”_ She could talk with her now?

“Hey!” One of the three students was trying to get Byleth’s attention, who had fallen behind everyone else.

_“Ah, it seems your presence is required. Get going!”_

Byleth walked up to the three students. Edelgard began to talk first.

“I appreciate your help back there. Your skill is beyond question. You’re clearly an experienced mercenary. And your father… that would be Jeralt, the Blade Breaker? Former captain of the Knights of Seiros, the most famous order of knights in all of Fódlan. Oft praised as the strongest knight to ever live. Have I missed anything?”

Byleth shrugged. “I didn’t know he was a captain.” She hadn’t heard of the Knights of Seiros before either, but decided against revealing that much lack of knowledge. Her job was to fill in when any order of knights couldn’t or wouldn’t.

The Adrestian tilted her head. “How curious. I’d wager the explanation for that is fascinating indeed.”

Claude talked next. “Hey! You are coming with us to the monastery, right? Of course you are. I’d love to bend your ear as we travel. Oh, I should mention that the three of us are students at the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery. We were doing some training exercises when the bandits attacked. I definitely got the worst of it.”

“That would be because you ran off.” Edelgard commented dryly.

“Too true!” The boy unashamedly accepted her claim. “I was the first to make a strategic retreat. Everything would have worked out if these two hadn’t followed me and ruined everything. Because of them, every single one of those bandits chased after us. Utterly ridiculous.”

“Ah, so that’s what you were thinking, Claude.” Dimitri interjected, a mild sneer in his tone of voice. “And here I thought you were acting as a decoy for the sake of us all.”

“His intentions were as clear as day.” Edelgard protested, directing her words to the boy of Faerghus. “You will prove a lacking ruler if you cannot see the truth behind a person’s words.”

“Hm.” Dimitri huffed and turned to the Adrestian. “You will prove a lacking ruler yourself if you look for deceit behind every word and fail to trust those whom you rely on.”

“Oh, joy.” Claude murmured. “A royal debate between Their Highnesses.”

 _Their Highnesses?_ Byleth’s mind raced behind her unflinching complexion. She and her father have done plenty of work for nobles, but heirs to an entire territory? Not just one, but at least two? How was she supposed to conduct herself again? She had treated them as any other commoner!

“I wonder how being completely predictable affects one’s ability to wield power.” Claude continued. “Personally, as the embodiment of distrust, I’d say your little exchange smacks of naïveté.”

Edelgard turned to the Leicester boy, indignant. “Me? Naïve? Tell me, are you actually incapable of keeping quiet, or is your lack of self-awareness a condition of some sort?”

“In any case,” Dimitri half-stepped between the two and towards Byleth. “Forgive our digression. I must speak with you, if you can spare a moment. The way you held your ground against the bandits’ leader was captivating! You never lost control of the situation. It showed me I still have much to learn.”

“Your skill is precisely why I must ask you to consider lending your services to the Empire.” The girl interrupted. “I might as well tell you now: I am no mere student. I am also the Adrestian Empire’s–”

“Halt, Edelgard.” Dimitri cut Edelgard off and reclaimed the conversation. “Please allow me to finish my own proposition.” He turned back to Byleth. “The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus is in dire need of exceptional individuals like yourself. Please, do consider returning to the Kingdom with me.”

“Whoa, there!” Claude cut in, facing the other two students. “You two sure are hasty, trying to recruit someone you just met. Tactless, really. I was personally planning to develop a deep and lasting friendship on our journey back to the monastery before begging for favors,” he feigned a sigh, “but it seems there’s no time for niceties in this world.” Claude faced Byleth once more. “So, capable stranger, let’s get right to it. Where does your allegiance lie?”

 _“Hmmm.”_ Oh, great, Sothis is back. _“It seems that one’s place of birth is quite significant to them. Yet they are so impressed by you, that you may take your pick. Well?”_ Before Byleth could answer, Alois returned and ended the conversation.

“Alright, that’s enough with the small talk. It’s time to head back to the monastery!”

Claude shrugged. “Looks like we’ll have to pick this up another time.” He and the other two students followed Alois.

 _“My, my. They are in such a hurry.”_ Sothis commented again. _“You know, each of the three is most unique…”_

“I agree.” Byleth didn’t speak aloud; rather, she conversed with Sothis in the confines of her mind. She followed behind the three students and watched them interact with the knights and her father.

Edelgard observed the knights and mercenaries cover the handcart with a tarp, grabbing a coil of rope and passing it to them upon request. Her stern, contemplative expression remained, reminding her of a bear in the wild, yet to determine whether a human it encountered is friend or foe. Regardless, her poise commanded respect, and she seemed confident in herself, perhaps by obligation rather by choice. Not unlike a bear used to encountering hunters, it seemed Edelgard erred on seeing others as enemies instead of as allies. Byleth wondered which she would be. “Edelgard is a refined young woman,” she concluded, “but I feel as though she is always evaluating me.”

There was also Claude. He assisted in tying down the cart, and made some witty remark that earned a boisterous laugh from Alois, a reluctant snort from Dimitri, and a muffled groan from Jeralt. Byleth has seen his smile many times in charismatic folks that disappeared as mysteriously as they appeared, their eyes dull like the blade of a well-used sword. Usually, they had something to hide, Jeralt once commented after one mercenary’s sudden disappearance with an exceedingly large portion of the band’s pay after a mission. And he called himself an embodiment of distrust, perhaps veiling the full extent of his air of mystery under a shroud of truth. “His easy smile is striking, but that smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.”

Finally, Dimitri pushed the cart forward from behind with unusual ease, allowing Jeralt and the other mercenaries to propel it onto the path east. He seemed content, but barely so. It was a face she recognized in many commoner children of the villages in which she and Jeralt frequently found work. Their initial reactions to seeing the mercenaries ranged from intimidated and mistrusting to cautious and humble. Two things they had in common, however, was that they were desperate to find hope and tended to be brutally honest. Some would eventually accept the mercenaries as a symbol of that hope, but most would only settle for a polite tolerance. “Dimitri seems quite sincere, but I sense darkness lurking beneath.”

 _“Yes, I thought the same.”_ Sothis agreed, then yawned. _“I am so sleepy once again. I may be sleeping, but I…”_

Sothis had nothing more to say. Finally alone with her thoughts, Byleth pondered on many subjects as she followed her father and new acquaintances under the rising sun and began her first journey to Garreg Mach.


	2. The Prince, the Princess, and the Heir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The goings-on of the journey to Garreg Mach Monastery.

**Chapter 2: The Prince, the Princess, and the Heir**

_Kingdom Territory_

_Monday, Day 21 of the Great Tree Moon – evening_

“The other students are still at the Monastery,” Alois said. “This excursion was intended to be a leadership exercise for the recently selected house leaders for the year. It was unfortunate that we were ambushed by those bandits – ooh, I think I… no, that one got away…”

Alois reeled in an empty line from his fishing pole, then added more bait to it before casting it back into the river. There would still be at least an hour before twilight, but due to the Knights of Seiros losing some of their supplies to the ambush the previous night, they required additional support from the land. And so Alois, Jeralt, and some of the knights and mercenaries, as many as were fishing poles, grabbed a pole and fished for their dinner and breakfast, while others pitched tents. They predicted they would make it to Garreg Mach Monastery by midday tomorrow.

The three students were assigned firewood duty with a couple other knights. Byleth also fished, but upon recommendation from her father, she found a quieter, more isolated location upstream. It didn’t take long for her to understand why; between his loud voice and overeagerness, Alois likely scared the fish away.

She didn’t mind being away from everyone else. Mostly. Whether she found the conversation interesting or not, her preference is to be near enough to one to listen in. Rarely she participated. She understood that some types of people are more inclined to speak their mind without her looming presence, and so she learned to distance herself just far enough to avoid intimidating others but still listen in when she wanted. In this case, the distance was only meant to give the company a chance of reeling in a decent amount of food. She could hear Alois loud and clear.

Byleth felt a nibble at the end of her line. After a moment for the fish to give a more solid bite, she pulled, reeled in a moderately sized white trout, and dropped it into a net with her other fish. Then she tied another earthworm to the hook, and let the hook sink into the river once more.

“You’re not a bad fisher.”

Byleth turned behind her to see Claude, the Leicester boy, leaning his back against a tree, arms raised above his head and his hands cushioning the back of his head. When she found herself unthreatened, she turned back to the water.

“My father taught me,” was her only reply to Claude’s comment. “Thank you for helping out with those bandits earlier.” In her mercenary experience, it was not often that those who asked for her help assisted with their own problems.

“Really?” Claude sauntered towards her. “It’s because of you guys that I’m not dead right now. Thanks for that!” He seated himself beside her, perhaps an inch too close for her liking. “I didn’t expect to run into mercenaries like you in some remote village. The gods of fortune must be smiling on me!”

Byleth silently rolled her eyes at his flattery. “I thought you were getting firewood.”

Claude shrugged as he rested his hands behind his head. “Eh, there wasn’t much I could contribute to assist Their Highnesses.”

He talked about the others like an outsider looking in. “You keep calling them that. But what are you?”

Byleth was met with a smirk and a verdurous wink. “Piqued your interest, have I?” A pause. Claude chuckled softly. “Well, as luck would have it, I’m pretty curious about you as well. But what’s life without a little mystery?”

Byleth blinked twice and stared blankly, waiting on Claude to answer her question when he grew weary of the silence. “I guess that means I’d better introduce myself properly.” He backtracked, his sly smile not leaving his face. “I’m Claude von Riegan. I’m from the ruling house of the Leicester Alliance, but don’t worry too much about all that madness.”

“If you’re from the ruling house, wouldn’t that also make you some form of royalty like the other Highnesses?”

“I’m an heir to the leading seat on the council. Very different from a monarch telling everyone else what to do.”

“I see.” She supposed this would be the most Claude von Riegan would identify himself. “Byleth Eisner of Fódlan.” She introduced herself.

“Where in Fódlan?” he inquired.

Byleth shrugged her shoulders. She and Jeralt never stayed in an area longer than two months at a time, and she never learned of her nor her father’s birthplace. “I belong to no territory.”

“Hey, you must feel something for your place of birth. Could you at least tell me that?”

Finally, Byleth detected a nibble on the line. She used the opportunity to delay her response to Claude’s question by reeling in the fish. She preferred not to disclose how little she knew about her past; she knew her mother died of illness before she could remember her, but that was all. Fortunately mercenaries weren’t usually asked about their history; enough powerful mercenaries were reputed to hide their origin, allowing for rumors to spread instead. If Byleth had to wager a guess though, she was probably born in Kingdom Territory. Perhaps it was because of its placement between northern Adrestia and Leicester, or maybe it was because of its unrest in more recent years, but she and Jeralt spent much of their time there.

Finally, she reeled in another trout. She glanced over to Claude, who looked at her expectantly.

“Tell me yours, then I’ll tell you mine,” Byleth gambled. Perhaps she could gather more information about the Leicester noble this way.

Claude blinked in surprise before quickly hiding the façade once more. “Ah… Well, sorry, I can’t do that.”

This response surprised Byleth, but she did a better job of disguising it than Claude. A noble who didn’t pride himself on his place of birth? How unusual.

“OK.” She accepted. Perhaps they both had secrets to hide. Byleth hooked another earthworm and cast it into the river once more.

“How about you tell me about your life as a mercenary?”

What was there to tell? She traveled and she killed. “Could you perhaps do something useful other than talking and scaring the fish away?” She was beginning to grow cross with Claude, now, ready to cast him into the river instead.

“OK, I’ll back off.” He scooted away and stood up. “I’ll even bring back more food than you’ll catch.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Byleth usually wasn’t one to instigate a competition, but Claude seemed like the kind of person who wouldn’t turn a friendly one down. In addition, it would send him away sooner, and Byleth was more than happy to regain her personal space.

“I accept your challenge.” With an exaggerated bow, hair grazing against the ground, Claude departed and wandered upstream and upwind, further away from the commotion caused by the other fishers.

Byleth found herself alone for about ten minutes, and in that time the other students and knights returned with decent piles of firewood and kindling. Dimitri was the one to look around and realize someone was missing.

“Where is Claude?”

“I thought he’d be trying to win you over to the Alliance by now.” Commented Edelgard.

Byleth shrugged. “He said he could bring in more fish than I. Didn’t say when he’d return, though.”

“Ah, ah, I said ‘food’, not ‘fish’.”

The three turned to see a triumphant Claude holding a large pheasant by its legs.

Byleth looked to the decent collection of fish in her net, and determined that the pheasant likely held more meat than her fish. For a boy who appeared lazy, he certainly wasn’t incapable. She nodded in approval. “Good work.”

“Is that right?” Said the young heir to the burgeoning league of nobles. “Well, that’s a win for the Alliance, so I suppose I’m obligated to be happy.”

The pheasant ended the need to gather additional food until the troop would arrive at the monastery the next day. While a fire was started and water heated to a boil for the rice the knights had available from their supplies, everyone else cleaned and repaired their weapons. Claude held the most recently tainted weapon: a single arrow from when he hunted the pheasant.

“Do you prefer to use a sword when you fight?” Edelgard asked her.

Byleth nodded. “I find it to be more flexible for my needs. One-handed or two-handed, quick and precise. In my line of work, it is not necessarily strength that wins, but speed.”

“There must be some cases in which another weapon is more effective for achieving your aims?” Dimitri inquired.

“Or when a sword is not readily available.” Claude supplemented.

“Of course.” Byleth confirmed. She paused for a moment, having learned the hard way under the tutelage of one teacher years ago that knowing a dozen ways to kill a man with only the few items in the room was not something to boast about. Perhaps at that age and with that audience, anyway. Byleth’s formal schooling experience was limited to the rare cases in which she and her father were in an area for longer than three weeks and there was someone in the area willing to teach her as payment for her father’s services. “I find that a bow is useful on missions that require stealth or greater distance between you and the enemy. Not to mention other weapons have their own advantages.”

“Would you say you’re an experienced fighter with an axe or lance?”

“As experienced as I need to be.”

“Care to spar?” Edelgard asked.

Byleth reflected on hundreds of sparring practices she’s shared with her father and dozens of mercenaries. Most of the time, she enjoyed the training and recreation. She glanced over to her mercenary band’s weapons supply, which always had a few more weapons than people in case replacement was necessary. She pulled out an iron axe from the cart.

“I’ll spar,” she replied. It’s not often a commoner like herself gets to face against nobles, she supposed.

“Great. Let us begin.”

Edelgard picked up her clean axe, sheathed in a leather cover, and stood up to face Byleth. They nodded to each other, and began to fight.

A swing here, a thrust there. Duck, rise, lunge, strike. It was a simple enough training, not too unlike practices with other mercenaries. Byleth did require to learn to adjust to the royal’s more elegant fighting techniques. She barely kept up with Edelgard, who could recover as quickly as she could attack. Finally, Alois called out to inform the young adults that dinner was ready. Both paused and agreed to end the duel with a stalemate.

* * *

The three students were visibly so much more curious about Byleth. Jeralt found himself eyeing his daughter’s new companions, pleased that her training stood well against them. He was pleasantly surprised that she hasn’t seemed to lose patience with them yet. Rather, it seemed she is about as curious about them as they are of her. He felt cautiously optimistic about their interest in employing her services as well; if he were to go, and Goddess knows when that will be, she should be able to fend for herself and find her own employers.

She sparred with the two boys as well; first with the Leicester boy who borrowed the axe Byleth used as she defaulted to her sword. The boy admitted to not being as familiar with an axe or sword, but he showed some potential. Byleth even shared some pointers with him; lead with the fastest and strongest strike, and if continued fighting follows, rely on speed and wit. Avoid spending all of your energy too soon.

 _Thanks, Teach,_ the boy replied playfully.

Jeralt recalled when he began to teach Byleth combat, not long after she learned to walk. She was nonvocal for the first few years of her life, but this wasn’t due to an inability to speak, he later learned. Byleth had always been a quiet child, neither laughing or crying as a baby. Jeralt wondered if she would make a sound at all when she grew older.

She must have been about three years old when she reached up for the sheathed dagger hanging on his belt. Before when she did this, he taught her basic defensive hand-to-hand combat. This time he decided it was due time to teach her to fight with a weapon. He taught her basic self-defense and evasion tactics before, so he figured she could do with the basics of knife fighting. Little Byleth picked up on it quickly, faster than Jeralt anticipated.

 _Good work, kiddo_ , he told her as he stood up and fastened the dagger back onto his belt.

Byleth stood on her tiptoes and reached up again. Jeralt wasn’t sure what she wanted in the moment, and placed his hand on the hilt of the dagger, wondering if she had wanted to play with it some more. Then it seemed she reached for the faded silver tassel of a large wooden pendant coated with resin that hung from his belt. Sitri had given him the pendant as a gift when she shared with him she was with child, and the pendant served as a simple toy for little Byleth when he left the monastery.

 _Da – Daddy?_ she spoke. Her little voice startled him slightly, as it was the first time he heard her make a noise. Even her breathing was kept silent, which would aid in her rapid growth as a thief on occasional missions.

Finally Byleth hugged around his knee. _Daddy,_ she said with a sigh. The tender moment reminded Jeralt of her mother.

Jeralt blinked back a tear and smiled as he picked up little Byleth and held her to his chest as he continued on a journey to his mercenary band’s next assignment.

“She’s not a bad teacher.” Alois observed aloud, bringing Jeralt back into the unfortunate current reality. “Better than that one fellow who split when we were attacked. Must have learned from the best, eh Captain?”

Jeralt glanced back to Byleth, was now trading her sword for a lance with the crown prince of Faerghus. _Don’t break it_ , she said off-handedly, which startled the prince slightly. Jeralt recognized her subtle joke, then remembered that Faerghus kings of the past are reputed for their great strength, and some for breaking swords as youths, and it seems that this prince has already become one of the number. Byleth couldn’t possibly know this history, so Jeralt found amusement in the irony of the situation.

“She’s a good kid,” he commented, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.

“Is she… Sitri’s?”

Jeralt glanced to Alois, who quickly retracted, fortunately before Jeralt could attempt a lie. “That’s right, that child passed in the fire. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Jeralt shrugged and grunted in reply. The time had long passed since Sitri had passed, and although he doesn’t cry for her now, he still mourned her and treasured her memory as best as he could without being able to return to her grave.

“So, where is this one’s mother?” Alois inquired.

“Her mother died of illness, well before Byleth could remember her.”

“I see.”

Jeralt watched as Byleth sparred against the prince. The dagger she first practiced with as a child now hung from her belt, a gift for her very first mercenary mission, and the pendant that once served as a toy now served as a necklace that hung with a pink tassel from the white collar of her black short-sleeve shirt. He was struck with a gut feeling that this girl was going to accomplish more in her lifetime than Jeralt would accomplish in his extended one.

He reached into a drawstring pouch that rested on his belt, and subconsciously pulled out his last memento associated with her mother’s memory: a silver ring adorned with a pattern of small amethysts and rubies. Jeralt proposed to Sitri with this ring, and he managed to swipe it from her after she passed away.

Jeralt hoped Sitri would be proud of the woman Byleth has become.

* * *

A pair was assigned to each of the available tents. Byleth and Edelgard were assigned to the second-last tent at the end of the row. At the outside of the row would rest a female knight and mercenary. Jeralt and one of his mercenaries took the other tent next to them, and down the row were the rest of the men, with Claude and Dimitri at the second-most distant tent.

Edelgard asked Byleth to change and prepare for bed first. She agreed, so Byleth slipped into the tent with a small bag of her belongings while Edelgard stood outside, keeping to her promise that she wouldn’t enter until Byleth gave the word. Byleth swiftly changed into her own night clothes, then pulled her gray cloak over her shoulders as she stepped back outside.

“You’re wearing a man’s shirt and trousers.” Edelgard observed.

Byleth shrugged and tugged at the cuff of her loose shirt. “They’re comfortable. And if I’m suddenly called to fight in the middle of the night, it’s easier to fight in these than try to change beforehand.”

“I understand. Though you were already dressed when we came to you for help.”

“Jeralt and I were preparing to depart for our next assignment.”

“So you and the mercenaries could have been gone if we arrived even a few minutes later?”

Byleth nodded.

“How serendipitous we came sooner.” A whisper of a smile graced Edelgard’s lips. “Thank you for protecting me.”

Edelgard then crept into the tent while Byleth waited outside. Jeralt passed by to give her word that she’ll take the final nightwatch before everyone else wakes and they continue their travels, and that then they will talk again at the end of his watch. She bade him a good night, then waited another few minutes before Edelgard opened the tent flap, letting her know she could come in.

Edelgard wore a simple nightgown that reached her ankles and a flowery shawl over her shoulders. Byleth seated herself on her bedroll. Edelgard sat on her own bedroll and shifted her legs so she hugged her knees and her feet pointed out toward Byleth under her scarlet gown.

Byleth uncrossed her legs and mimicked Edelgard’s sitting position, then wondered briefly if there was some custom she didn’t know of that she should follow. Considering Edelgard’s lack of expression, she determined that she was at least on accepting terms with her. Byleth was taught basic manners and customs by her father and some of her teachers, but she didn’t know what manners were expected when addressing nobility and royalty, let alone if there were any new ones to know and follow. She was fortunate that these ones were treated simply as students by the knights, but she still felt uneasy, though she didn’t show it.

This is also the girl she nearly died rescuing. She would have if it wasn’t for Sothis rescuing her. If the opportunity arose, would Byleth do it again? She couldn’t say. She knew too little of the girl sitting before her.

Finally, Edelgard spoke. “I never properly introduced myself, did I?” she asked.

Byleth shook her head.

“My name is Edelgard von Hresvelg. I am the princess and heir apparent to the Adrestian Empire. Though the Empire has fallen from its former glory, the other regions are merely offshoots that pale in comparison.”

The oldest of the three territories of Fódlan, Byleth recalled from her limited schooling. Years have been counted since the founding of the Empire 1180 years ago.

“Byleth Eisner, mercenary.” It would be wise not to admit her lack of fealty to a territory when not asked, she concluded from her interaction with Claude. Byleth shifted to her side as she lowered her knees to the ground, preparing herself to tuck herself into her bedroll. “I’m taking the last night watch, so I should get to sleep.”

“A wise choice. Before everyone else wakes up, could you wake me?”

“I will.” Byleth nodded as she recalled times she woke a female mercenary her father’s band would pick up every so often. “Do you intend to put on makeup?”

Edelgard shook her head as she loosed the ribbons in her hair. “I don’t fuss with makeup all that much, but I do take excellent care of my hair.”

This Byleth could understand. On her travels she usually washed her hair thrice a week when possible, but preferred daily baths when the facilities were available. As for makeup, she never had the luxury of owning any, let alone learning how to use it. It was more practical for her to exclusively manage hair and personal hygiene than to decorate her face.

“What else can you tell me about you?” Byleth inquired.

“Me?” Edelgard pondered as she tied her hair back with one ribbon and began braiding underneath. “Well… some think I’m a bit distant. Arrogant, even.” 

Byleth could see why people would get that impression. Edelgard didn’t seem too concerned with people’s view of her.

“But there’s little to be done. One day, I must rise to become Adrestia’s new emperor. What else…” She paused to ponder. With her other ribbon, Edelgard tied her hair below the plait. She then shifted and tucked her legs into her bedroll.

Byleth reached for her belongings, sorting through so each of her items were precisely where she wanted them. More specifically, she wanted her dagger easily accessible in case anything were to happen while she slept. When she became content with the work, she propped her bag beside her pillow.

“Well, it seems to me that we may have similar personalities.” Edelgard finally said.

Byleth turned to her, unsure of what she meant. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re confident, industrious, and yet difficult to read.”

Byleth couldn’t disagree. “I see.” Byleth searched the floor of the tent around her, then tucked herself into her bedroll, resting flat on her back and looking up to the roof of the tent. She waited until Edelgard, who also looked about herself, also rested in her bedroll before closing her eyes. “Sleep well, your Highness.”

“You as well.” Replied the princess of the land of ancient history.

* * *

“Hey, kid, it’s your watch.”

Byleth heard her father whisper from outside the tent. It was another one of those cases where being a light sleeper came to good use. Quietly, she rapped twice on the tent flap to let Jeralt know she heard him and changed from her sleepwear to her usual attire. To her good fortune, the princess did not stir.

Byleth exited the tent, wrapping her arms in the long hanging sleeves of her black cloak, and joined her father outside by the firepit. To her mild disappointment, one of the Knights of Seiros also was on the final nightwatch, guarding the camp from the other side of the row of tents at his own firepit.

“I take it running off without a trace isn’t an option this time?” she asked in a hushed voice.

Jeralt shook his head in confirmation. “This isn’t like running off from taverns. Now that these knights know I’m out there, if we disappear, they’ll seek me out. Try to find me.”

“Is this why we never stayed at any one place for longer than two months? To hide from them?”

Jeralt nodded gravely.

“What do they plan to do?”

“I’m not sure, kid. If they wanted me back in the Knights of Seiros, I would think Alois would have asked me by now. Either way, I plan on us leaving as soon as we arrive. You needn’t worry yourself about it, Byleth. We’ll sort things out tomorrow.”

Byleth nodded. There wasn’t much she could trust in her unusual world, but, as cryptic and mysterious as he can be, she knew she could trust Jeralt. “Rest well, Father.”

Jeralt grunted in reply as he stood up and entered his tent. When Byleth found herself alone, she reached for the pheasant feather she retrieved from dinner and cut its tip with the dagger hanging from her belt, making it into a quill. Finally, she took out two of her most prized possessions from her sack: a sealed bottle of ink, and a book. Specifically, her journal.

On evenings where she took a nightwatch, Byleth filled her time and kept awake by quietly writing by the light of a fire. Usually she kept her entries short, but considering the day’s events, she knew this night’s entry wouldn’t be so. She paused frequently to listen out for possible intruders.

> _Year 1180:_
> 
> _Day 21 of the Great Tree Moon: Sunny. We’ve finally left Remire Village. After a few days of pause, the bandits reappeared last night, but they targeted a small group of students about my age instead of the villagers. The students surprised me; not only did they know how to fight and contributed to driving the bandits off, but all three are the most noble they can get from their respective territories. They each seemed interested in hiring me for work in the future._
> 
> _The young girl from my dreams is more than a dream. Her name is Sothis. She saved my life somehow by turning back the hands of time. I don’t know how this is possible._
> 
> _A group of knights called the Knights of Seiros also came in to drive the bandits off. One of them, Alois, recognized my father. Jeralt was a captain for them time ago. Upon Alois’s request, we are now en route to Garreg Mach Monastery, neutral territory in the Oghma Mountains. With any luck, it won’t deter us from our next assignm–_

About an hour into the watch, Byleth paused at a slightly louder sound in the night from behind her, the sound of snapped twigs from footsteps. She turned back to see a tall silhouette approaching her from the row of tents.

“Who goes there?” she whispered, just loud enough for the other party to hear.

“It is I.”

Dimitri. She barely recognized his voice, but she supposed that it was due to only knowing him for a day.

“May I sit with you?” he asked.

“If you wish.”

Byleth finished the sentence in her journal as Dimitri seated himself adjacent to her around the firepit. The light of the fire illuminated his face.

“Please accept my apologies for the other day.”

“Apologies?”

“You came to our aid, yet I hadn’t even the courtesy to properly introduce myself. I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, crown prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Of course, at the academy I am simply a student.”

The students continued to surprise her by allowing themselves to be treated so casually while still retaining a formal air.

“And I am simply a mercenary.” Byleth said. “What is this academy you three keep talking about?”

“The Officers Academy? It is a school for warfare, the most prestigious school in Fódlan. Have you not heard of it?”

Byleth shook her head.

“Oh. Forgive me. I assumed you would have, considering you have some education, enough to read and write.”

“It’s only what I’ve picked up from teachers in the few times Jeralt and I are in an area for longer than a couple weeks.”

“And your fighting techniques…”

“Combat, strategy… I learned it all from my father.”

“Fascinating. Do you enjoy it? Life as a mercenary, I mean.”

Byleth shrugged. It was only life as she knew it, and she learned time ago to suspend her own wishes for what was needed for the time being, usually money. “So, what’s your story?”

“Me?” Dimitri blinked in mild surprise. “Oh. Um. Please forgive me… It’s difficult to open up on the spot, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.” Byleth was never one for introductions either. It was rare for a member of her mercenary band to stay longer than a couple years, so she learned not to allow herself to get too attached to anyone except her father. The less others knew about her, the less they could hurt her later. At least that was the impression she got from Jeralt when he wouldn’t answer a question about her past straight away.

Dimitri leaned back to sit up straighter. He turned his head a little away from the light of the fire, a shroud of darkness falling upon the right side of his face. “I’m afraid my story has not been a pleasant one… I do hope that doesn’t color your view of me, but I understand if that can’t be helped.”

“You don’t have to share if you don’t wish to.” Let people open up to you on their own terms, Jeralt’s council warned Byleth. Trust from potential employers is cultivated with time, not given upon request.

Dimitri exhaled, leaning back towards the fire and its light. “Understood. Thank you.”

“Perhaps you could tell me more about Faerghus instead?” Byleth knew plenty of the commoner culture of the land of noble knights, but could glean from their attitudes that most tend to show more respect towards nobility than the commoners of the Empire and Alliance.

“Of course. Faerghus is a noble and distinguished kingdom that has always valued chivalry.”

Perhaps this was why the people of Faerghus seemed so polite. Sometimes it unnerved her. It was easier to deal with someone willing to say to her face that they disliked her than to deal with social politics shrouding hatred with false smiles.

Dimitri didn’t seem to be concealing distaste however. But he was concealing something.

Byleth glanced up to the setting moon, recognizing by the slight cerulean shade against the black sky that the sun would begin to rise soon.

He kindly followed Byleth’s request to return to the tent until everyone else wakes up. After Dimitri left, Byleth slunk back to her tent and gently woke Edelgard. Thankfully, she responded right away, and before dawn broke and the others began breakfast and packing up the tents, Edelgard’s hair was washed, dried, and styled as she liked. They were on the road before the sun rose above the forest on the horizon.

* * *

The knights and mercenaries conversed more comfortably for the remaining hours of their journey. The students and Byleth following behind, however, remained silent. After they had finished packing, Claude made the mistake of flirtatiously claiming Byleth would go with him to the Leicester Alliance, and so they ceased conversation to avoid any more contention.

She walked in a row between Claude and Edelgard, while Dimitri walked by Claude’s other side. Edelgard returned to her stern, unreadable expression, and Claude to his easygoing half-smile. Dimitri was less stiff than before, but still cautious and polite.

“This will be your first time at the monastery.” Dimitri finally broke the silence. Byleth turned to see him peering over to her. “I’d be happy to show you around.” He offered.

“It really is Fódlan in a nutshell.” Claude added. “The good and the bad.”

“Like it or not, we’ll be there soon enough.” Edelgard said, continuing facing forward. Byleth glanced over to her, then cast her eyes back on the path forward.

They had already passed one small town at the bottom of the mountains, and the dirt path they trod showed more wear from more frequent travels, compacting the ground and allowing those walking on it to quickly traverse the forest.

Finally, the four came out of a thick cover of trees. Byleth’s eyes quickly adjusted to the midday sun. Her gaze followed the path up the mountain, past two sets of tall stone walls, and to a set of enormous fortified buildings with many towers. Not even the homes of nobles compared to the grand sight before her.

“There it is,” announced Edelgard. “Garreg Mach Monastery.”

Nearly an hour later, the company found themselves at the front gates. The Knights of Seiros let them in with ease, and the three students were dismissed to attend to their classes and homerooms. A bell tower chimed a five-note melody.

Byleth and Jeralt followed the knights into a courtyard clearing partitioned by thick hedges. They were near a gazebo and a bridge that separated the Officers Academy from the cathedral. Jeralt stopped when he glanced upwards, and Byleth followed suit, wondering what was the matter.

“Rhea’s here,” Jeralt muttered under his breath.

Byleth looked up to see an elegantly dressed lady with long green hair looking down at them from a balcony. She wore a white gown with a blue cape and a gold headdress. There was a soft, kind expression on her face that unnerved Byleth. She stared up at her, daring to make eye contact, then resumed following her father and the knights.

Alois asked them to wait in the reception hall while he climbed upstairs to the audience chamber.


	3. The Archbishop

**Chapter 3: The Archbishop**

_Garreg Mach Monastery_

_Tuesday, Day 22 of the Great Tree Moon_

Lady Rhea was pleasantly surprised when she heard of the return of the former Captain Jeralt, surprised enough that she didn’t believe the news at first. Her doubts vanished when she walked out to the balcony of her advisory room and spotted the party return to the monastery. Jeralt entered the courtyard accompanied by a young girl with dark teal hair, and they noticed her looking down at them. Something about the girl struck Rhea as oddly familiar.

“I wonder… did the flow of time bring you here?” she pondered.

“Rhea?” Seteth called to her. “Alois has come to report on the house leaders’ leadership exercise.”

As she requested before he departed with the students last week. “Send him in, and summon Professors Hanneman and Manuela.”

Rhea followed Seteth through the advisory room and into the audience chamber, where Alois waited with his usual contagious grin on his face.

“It is good to see you and the students have returned safely, Alois.”

“Thank you, Lady Rhea.” Alois bowed. “Apologies for keeping you waiting.”

“I trust that you have good news to report?”

“Indeed. However, I cannot say whether the leadership exercise has been effective for the students. We were attacked one night by bandits. During the ruckus, the students escaped seeking help, and it was they who found help from a band of mercenaries led by our former Captain Jeralt. He and his mercenaries have accompanied us here.”

“Thank you for ensuring their safety and bringing them here.”

Alois continued to report on how the students performed on their exercises and on the night of Jeralt’s rescuing. They both agreed the three were well-qualified to lead their respective houses. Alois had just finished telling of his reunion with the knight for whom he once served as squire when Seteth returned with Professors Hanneman and Manuela. Rhea guided them into a circle that she considered most effective for meetings.

“Professors, thank you for coming in. As you each know, another reason we held this leadership exercise for our house leaders is so we can choose our third homeroom professor. You two had suggested the knight Bertram von Albany before. Alois, what are your thoughts?”

“After the excursion, I can’t say that I would recommend him. He disappeared in the scuffle the night the bandits attacked, and only reappeared after the conflict was resolved.”

“Oh, dear.” Manuela muttered.

Hanneman sighed. “I am disappointed to hear. I had hoped that he would be better than that.”

“It is unfortunate that good professors are so difficult to come by these days.” Seteth agreed.

“I am still surprised that no one put in an application this year. The heirs of all three territories attending at once… but no matter.” Hanneman cleared his throat.

“There’s still the young weapons instructor.” Manuela suggested.

“Jeritza von Hrym? He’s still not interested.”

“If I may…” Alois interrupted. “I would like to recommend one of Captain Jeralt’s mercenaries.”

“Who?”

“Byleth Eisner.”

Eisner. The child of Jeralt, without a doubt. Most likely the one she spotted accompanying Jeralt in the courtyard not long ago.

“Manuela, go talk with the students. Inform the house leaders that this Byleth will be our third homeroom professor.”

Seteth’s jaw dropped in shock. “But Lady Rhea–”

Manuela left the audience room straightaway, eager to report the news.

Was this Byleth Sitri’s long lost daughter? Rhea grieved greatly when she heard Sitri’s child died in the great fire, but when Jeralt disappeared soon after, something didn’t quite resonate with her. Upon reflection, Jeralt distanced himself from herself – and others – soon after Sitri passed. He excused this behavior by directing it to his care for his newborn child, but perhaps… Did he blame her for Sitri’s passing?

“Alois, please tell us more about this Byleth.” Rhea just had to know more.

“Of course!” Alois grinned widely. “She’s Captain Jeralt’s daughter, about the same age as the house leaders. She’s already befriended each of them. Last night she sparred with each of them and voluntarily gave them pointers on how to fight. She’s a capable teacher, and I believe she and the Captain would do well working here.”

Perhaps this wasn’t Sitri’s daughter after all, Rhea thought disappointedly. Regardless, she could still be the new teacher the Officers Academy needs.

“Hanneman, go find Manuela. You two will introduce Byleth to the Academy’s class structure. Alois, send for Jeralt and Byleth, then report to the knights.”

After Alois and Hanneman left, Seteth cornered Rhea in her advisory room, who was still seething in frustration.

“Have you no intention of changing your mind, Rhea? Appointing a stranger – a child no less! – as a professor at our esteemed academy is–”

Rhea had no desire to listen to a long lecture on why she should reconsider. “I have made my decision, Seteth. I know worrying comes naturally to you, but there is truly no need. That ‘stranger’ is Jeralt’s flesh and blood, after all.”

Seteth remained uneasy. “I can’t say that’s all too comforting. How trustworthy is this Jeralt character? Is he not the man who went missing after the great fire twenty-one years ago? I would remind you that Flayn is now here with us as well. I beg of you… please consider whether this is an unnecessary risk.”

“Seteth, they have my trust. Let that be enough for you as well.” Rhea knew he wouldn’t be persuaded easily, but now was not going to be the best time to discuss. She wanted to meet Jeralt and Byleth. “More importantly, I have received a report from Shamir. I am increasingly concerned about a matter regarding our suspicious individual.” The villager from House Gaspard’s territory. “We cannot ignore those who harbor ill will towards the church, especially if they are frequenting Garreg Mach.”

“Yes, that matter is of great importance as well. I shall continue my investigation.” Seteth was forced to accept that he couldn’t dissuade her. “Rhea… for now, I will have faith that you are placing your trust with the utmost care. I pray that nothing occurs to shake that confidence.”

Outside of the advisory room they overheard Alois bringing in Jeralt and Byleth. Rhea glanced to Seteth. It was time again to meet the famous captain.

* * *

“Claude!” Hilda hollered and waved when she spotted him striding into the Golden Deer’s homeroom. The other students turned, or at minimum, glanced up, to see their house leader. A warmer response than when Professor Hanneman announced that Claude was to be their house leader nine days ago, so he couldn’t complain, Claude supposed. Of the three houses this year, theirs had the closest vote on who should lead them.

He forced a smile on his face and waved back.

“How did your leadership exercise go, Leader Man?”

The house leader shrugged his shoulders. “Well, let’s just say it’s not what anyone expected.”

Lorenz scoffed. “Perhaps the knights regret selecting you as house leader instead of me?”

Claude rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Lorenz.”

“So where did you go?” asked Ignatz. “What was the scenery like?”

Claude took a minute to grab a scroll from the shelves of the homeroom and unroll a map of Fódlan. Ignatz pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose to better see the map. Claude searched along the Oghma Mountain range until he found and pointed out a location just east of Remire Village. “We first set up camp around here. Probably would’ve spent more time there if it wasn’t for the unexpected bandit raid.”

“Oh.” The softest of whispers escaped Marianne’s lips. For a girl of so few words, it was enough to express her concern.

“Thankfully, none of us were fatally hurt.” Claude continued his narrative. “I escaped and found a nearby village that had a band of mercenaries that helped us out. Apparently their leader worked as a knight of Seiros some time ago, and Alois convinced him to bring his band of mercenaries to the monastery. His name was… Eisner. Jeralt Eisner.”

Leonie, who had been tending to her well-used bow, paused, and the sound of its string rang in the air. “Wait. Captain Jeralt?” she gasped.

“You know of him?” asked Lysithea.

“Jeralt came to aid my village years ago, and taught me all I know about combat. He’s why I want to train to be a great mercenary!”

“He sounds like a very capable leader.”

If what he taught to Byleth was an indicator, Jeralt was probably the most qualified to lead the knights of Seiros. He could easily rival Claude’s old combat instructor. Perhaps Byleth could as well. She responded so quickly to the bandit leader’s sudden change of target it was as if she knew it would happen. “I didn’t have the pleasure of working with Jeralt closely, but I could tell you all about his daughter, who is just as capable as he.”

Leonie’s jaw dropped. “He has a kid?”

He was interrupted by a knock at the wooden door. The students turned to see Professor Manuela. “Claude. Might I have a word?”

Of course she came in when he finally got to the more interesting part of his story. He glanced back at his fellow classmates.

“I’ll tell you all about her… after I talk with Professor Manuela.”

“We’ll be right here.” Raphael quickly replied before taking another bite of one of a few meat skewers he must have taken out of the dining hall after lunch.

Conversing with Professor Manuela confirmed his suspicions that the leadership exercise was not for the house leaders, but for the knights. They weren’t seeking out a new captain like he previously thought, but a new homeroom professor, and fortunately for him, he had spent the last day and a half trying to prove himself to be her ally.

* * *

Edelgard pushed open the homeroom doors to the Black Eagle house. The first person she spotted was her trusted servant Hubert, who had seemed to be pacing the floor between classes. He looked up, spotted her, and instantly relaxed. Hubert never felt at ease when she had to leave for days at a time. Sometimes it felt overbearing, but considering their plans for the time, he was understandably anxious.

“Eeek! A ghost!” Bernadetta squeaked in alarm to the sudden noise. She ducked under her table, clinging to her book. Linhardt, who had been napping with his elbow on the same table and hand under his chin, suddenly dropped his head when Bernadetta nudged the table just a little to the side. He woke up and picked up his head just before it would have slammed against the table.

“Lady Edelgard,” Petra stood up from her seat. “You are returning to us.”

Hubert bowed. “I trust that your leadership exercise with the knights was… insightful?”

“How could it not be?” The grating voice of Ferdinand answered. “To practice so personably among the Knights of Seiros must be quite the experience. And receive unique instruction… I would have liked to take part.”

Edelgard shook her head. Even if he said he was already over losing the title of Black Eagles house leader to her, and not even by a close vote, he still aspired to prove he surpasses her. Hubert gave him a cold stare. Edelgard in turn cast Hubert a glare. This petty squabble is not worth their time.

“A few things actually didn’t go according to the knights’ plans. One night a raid of bandits attacked, and we were rescued by a band of mercenaries. The youngest, a girl our age… she saved my life.”

Edelgard again glanced to Hubert, which quietly communicated to him that they had much to discuss the next time the two were alone, and that this mercenary would become a topic of discussion.

“Oh my, Edie!” gasped Dorothea. “I’m so glad to hear that you’re OK.”

“You were attacked? Oh, I knew I should’ve asked the knights to bring some of us along.” Caspar said. “I could fight them off. Come at me, bandits!”

“No need to worry about that, Caspar.” Edelgard assured him. “The bandits were driven off, and the mercenaries accompanied us here. The father of the girl who saved my life used to be a captain of the Knights of Seiros.”

“Well! Perhaps you could introduce us.” Dorothea purred. “Tell us more about your dashing rescuer.”

Always one to embellish the story, that Dorothea. “She’s a capable leader. She led the three of us through the fight without anyone getting injured. A quick thinker and fighter too.” Those traits were what saved Edelgard. She was so surprised that someone she barely met would be so willing to risk their life to protect hers. Would the people of Adrestia be that willing as well? Why did Byleth do it?

“Not to interrupt, but before you continue…” Linhardt yawned. “Could you show me once more how you conjure your Crest? I’d like to examine the technique and compare it to what I’ve seen in my research.”

It was rather frustrating that Linhardt had so little interest in this new character, let alone anything beyond his own personal interests. Edelgard sighed. “Very well.” With ease, she conjured her minor Crest of Seiros. Linhardt asked a question on her thought process as she manifested her Crest faster than other mages projected theirs when they learned. After she answered, Professor Manuela knocked at the door.

Bernadetta squealed again. The professor turned to the source of the squeal.

“Bernadetta, there’s no need for you to cower, my dear. Come out from there.”

Bernadetta moped and squirmed out from under the table, now holding her book over her head like a shield. Manuela then looked to Edelgard.

“Edelgard, may I speak with you for a minute?”

“Yes, Professor Manuela.” Edelgard cast away her Crest, then left the homeroom to talk with Professor Manuela. To say Edelgard was bewildered at the news of the third homeroom professor was accurate. Lady Rhea couldn’t be serious about this choice, could she?

Things had gone very different from plans, indeed.

* * *

Professor Manuela caught Dimitri walking from his emptied Blue Lions homeroom towards the training grounds where his fellow classmates were currently training. He was astonished to hear that the mercenary Byleth would be the third homeroom professor.

Well, it was one way for her to serve a territory of Fódlan. He supposed he should trust in the knights and Lady Rhea’s decision and believed she would lead well.

He opened the door to the training grounds. He first spotted Ashe aiming a nocked bow at a practice dummy against the stone wall and Annette observing his technique beside him. Behind them were two of his childhood friends, Sylvain and Ingrid. Ingrid held a wooden lance in front of her, and Sylvain talked as he stepped around and behind her, placing his hands on Ingrid’s shoulders. He must have made another absurd comment, as Sylvain leaped back raising his arms in the air when Ingrid retaliated with an elbow to his ribs and a back-handed fist under his chin.

“Your Highness.” Dedue’s eyes lifted, and he bowed. “I see you have returned.” He had been standing beside Mercedes by the pillars at the entrance of the training grounds. Felix had been lurking nearby as well, his practice sword recently pulled from a training dummy. Dedue visibly relaxed his tense shoulders. Dedue had been uneasy when Dimitri told him he would be leaving for a few days. Now he could return to his perceived primary role as vassal.

Ashe loosed his arrow, and it sunk deeply into the target. He then turned to see him as the others did. “Oh! Your Highness! Did you learn much from the leadership exercise?”

“Not exactly…” Dimitri admitted. “We were raided by bandits, and we sought help from a group of mercenaries who happened to be nearby. They’ve accompanied us back here on Alois’s request. The mercenaries’ leader used to be a captain of the knights of Seiros.”

“Oh dear!” Mercedes exclaimed. “I’m glad to hear that you returned safely.”

Ingrid began walking over, her curiosity piqued. “I’ve heard from a few merchants and lords that mercenaries are efficient fighters, more so than the knights on occasion. What was it like to fight with them?”

“I had only fought alongside one of them.” He answered. “A girl our age, the former captain’s daughter.” Byleth.

Sylvain’s eyebrows raised when he heard the word _girl_. “A girl our age, huh? Is she gorgeous?”

Ingrid shot him one of her deathly glares. “Sylvain…”

“Right, right…”

Byleth was pretty, Dimitri supposed. But if he was being honest with himself, she both intrigued and intimidated him. The way she approached the bandits… it was certainly captivating, but also so chilling.

“She’s a skilled fighter and leader. Even when we sparred yesterday, she was intense and unrelenting. And the way she stood against the bandit leader… she must have fought hundreds before, she was fearless.” Her expression lacked fear, yes, but she seemed to lack any emotion whatsoever. Her eyes didn’t seem dull like that of someone used to pain, but rather, empty, as if she chose to never feel in the first place. It was eerie.

“Wow,” sighed Annette. “If she’s as great as you say, I’ll have to attend this academy for years before I can compare.”

Felix huffed. “Hopefully you’ve picked up on her technique over the past few days.” He picked up a wooden sword and lance, and tossed Dimitri the lance. “Let’s spar, boar.”

He’s in a better mood today, Dimitri observed. “Very well.” He invited Dedue to spar as well, a two versus one match against him. A deflected axe strike from Dedue, followed closely by a dodged sword swipe from Felix, and Dimitri slipped into the rhythm.

* * *

Alois left Jeralt and Byleth in the audience chamber a little too excitedly to report to his fellow knights.

Jeralt looked about the room. Despite the fire many years ago, little has changed in the room’s appearance. He groaned.

“It’s been years since I’ve last set eyes on this place.” He whispered. “To be forced to see her now…”

Rhea, the lady in the courtyard, Byleth presumed. “You’ve been here before?”

“I’ve never spoken of this to you before, but… many years ago, I was a knight here. I reported to the archbishop, Lady Rhea. You saw her in the courtyard earlier, didn’t you?”

“The archbishop?”

That’s right; he made it a point to raise her up to depend on herself rather than on a religion. Consequently, while she knew most people had some devout belief, she didn’t know much about any religion’s structure.

“As you know, the majority of Fódlan are devout followers of the teachings of Seiros. The leader of that ridiculously large organization is the archbishop, Lady Rhea.”

The door to the advisory room opened before Byleth could comment further. Out came the recently mentioned Lady Rhea and a man that Jeralt didn’t recognize.

“Thank you for your patience, Jeralt. My name is Seteth. I am an advisor to the archbishop.”

Of course. It was better for him to remain guarded. “Right. Hello.”

“It has been a long time, Jeralt.” Rhea spoke. “I wonder… was it the will of the goddess that we have another chance meeting like this?”

Jeralt hoped not. He noted Rhea already eying Byleth, and he felt anxious to leave before anything could happen to her. “Forgive my silence all these years. Much has happened since we last spoke.”

“So I see. The miracle of fatherhood has blessed you.” _Again?_ Her brief pause seemed to ask. Rhea glanced to Byleth before returning his gaze. “That is your child, is it not?”

“Yes, born many years after I left this place. I wish I could introduce you to the mother of my child, but I’m afraid we lost her to illness.”  
“I see. My condolences.”

Jeralt relaxed some when he detected sincerity in her speech. Perhaps he had convinced her of his lie. Rhea turned to his daughter, who although looked much like her mother, carried his own stern, unreadable expression in her face. “As for you… I heard of your valiant efforts from Alois. What is your name?”

Silence. For only a moment. “My name is Byleth.” She finally replied. Any longer and it looked as if the advisor would scold her. Jeralt detected a hint of reluctance in Byleth sharing her name. He knew she intended to be polite, but the pause nearly betrayed her distrust, which she showed everyone except her father.

“A fine name indeed.” Rhea smiled warmly. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for saving those students of the Officers Academy.”

Jeralt grunted when Rhea turned to him once more. “Jeralt. You already know what it is I wish to say, do you not?”

Unfortunately. Jeralt sighed softly.

“You want me to rejoin the Knights of Seiros, don’t you?” Lady Rhea nodded with a smile in her eyes. “I won’t say no, but…”

Rhea winced slightly. “Your apprehension stings. I had expected that Alois would have already asked this of you.” She gestured toward the advisory room. “Please, let us discuss the terms of your service.”

Jeralt sighed. “Alright.”

He and Byleth started to follow Lady Rhea to the advisory room. Seteth stopped them for a moment to clarify that only Jeralt was to discuss with the archbishop. Jeralt cast a reassuring glance only Byleth could detect, then continued to the advisory room with Rhea and her advisor. Seteth closed the door behind them before Rhea spoke.

“Jeralt, allow me to formally invite you to rejoin the knights. I would like to extend to you the position of acting captain. Our current captain, you see, is getting on in years, and is becoming unable to fulfill his duties. You are more qualified than any knight currently in our ranks, and I believe you have much to offer. I also understand that your mercenaries accompanied you here. I would like to offer them pay in gratitude for protecting the students of the Officers Academy and the option to join the Knights of Seiros.”

She intended to make it as simple as possible for his band to transition, Jeralt realized. And even more difficult for him to say no.

“This is more than fair. I thank you.”

Perhaps he could persuade the few who would decline to follow Byleth as their new leader until he could leave mysteriously again and rejoin them.

“As for Byleth…” Jeralt’s heart sank. “…I would like to extend to her a position as a professor at the Officers Academy.”

What? She rarely interacted with people her age as it were. Would she feel overwhelmed by this sudden responsibility, most different from anything she has done as a mercenary?

“Lady Rhea, Byleth is young enough to be a student of the academy. I could use my pay as a knight to pay for her enrollment, but if it’s her services that you want, I believe she would be more of use as a knight.”

“If the academy wasn’t having a difficult time finding a suitable professor, I would consider it. Alois recommended her to us when one knight we had in mind for the position failed to protect our students that night the bandits attacked. In that respect, she is more than qualified to lead the students.”

Rhea was not going to change her mind on this matter. She managed to consider all the things that mattered the Jeralt in order to make it so he and his daughter would be obligated to stay and work for the Church. What does she have planned? Unfortunately, perhaps the most permanent way to free themselves from her influence was to stay and find out.

 _Byleth,_ he thought, _you’ve been able to take on many challenges before in your young age. I hope you’ll manage to step up to this one._

“Alright. Let her decide to take this task.” Jeralt finally said.

Rhea smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Jeralt. The other professors will arrive and show her her responsibilities, and Alois will meet with you and the current captain of the knights. I must step away for now, but I expect they will desire a word with you soon. Please listen carefully to what they have to say. Until tomorrow, farewell.”

Farewell.

* * *

Byleth hadn’t waited terribly long by the time Jeralt returned. Judging by his furrowed brow, it wasn’t pleasant news.

“I don’t believe it.” He muttered. “Forced back into the Knights of Seiros.” Jeralt looked to her with an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. Looks like I’ll be stuck here for a while… and I’m afraid your services are requested as well.”

Wait. “I must… work here? As a mercenary or a servant?”

“Nothing like that.” He assured her. “They want you to teach, by the sound of it.”

“Teach?” What? Byleth’s lower lip dropped a little before she quickly shut her mouth again.

“You heard those brats earlier talking about the Officers Academy, right?”

Byleth could only bring herself to nod.

“Well, the academy just happens to be short a professor, and apparently that damned Alois went and recommended you to Lady Rhea.”

She didn’t have time to process how uncomfortable she felt with this news before a middle-aged woman and an older man entered the room. The woman eyed Jeralt like a lioness, which unnerved Byleth.

“So. You must be the new professor.” The woman purred. “My, how stern and handsome you are!”

“Er, no.” Jeralt said quickly. “I’m not the one you’re looking for.” He gestured to Byleth. At the same time, Alois came in and beckoned Jeralt. Jeralt then turned to leave the audience chamber, but not before placing a hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “You can handle things from here. Good luck.” And in a quieted voice so only his daughter could hear: “And… watch out for Lady Rhea. I don’t know what she’s thinking, making you a professor like this. She may be up to something. Stay on your guard.”

Byleth didn’t need to nod to acknowledge and heed his warning. After the knights of Seiros left, Byleth was just left with who she presumed were the other professors.

“Oh. It’s you then?” The woman asked, blinking in surprise. “So young…”

“Competence and age are not necessarily correlated, as you well know.” The older man gently chided. He then turned to Byleth to introduce himself. “I am Hanneman, a Crest scholar and professor at the Officers Academy. I wonder if you bear a Crest of your own. When you next have a moment to spare, I insist that you pay me a visit so we can delve into the subject further.”

What was this man rambling on about Crests, and why did they seem so important?

“I’m Manuela.” The woman said. “I’m a professor, a physician, a songstress, and available. It’s nice to meet you.”

Byleth would have liked to berate her for flaunting her availability to her father earlier with her flattery. However, in order for others to share more of their stories and learn how to predict their behaviors, Byleth knew that it was better to focus on asking questions they would like to answer rather than making immediate judgments.

“A songstress?” she inquired. She hadn’t heard of a songstress before.

Manuela smiled. “Of course. Before I came here, I belonged to a renowned opera company. Perhaps you’ve heard of me? The Mittelfrank Opera Company’s beautiful, peerless–”

“Spare our colleague the needless chatter, Manuela.” Hanneman interrupted.

A professional singer, Byleth realized. And someone very pleased with their own talent. She shook her head, not having heard much music beyond a few children singing silly tunes as they strummed, beat, or whistled into noisy toys. Their parents would usually be better depending on what they had available to them.

“Now then,” Hanneman continued, “it seems you’ll be taking charge of one of the three houses. I expect you haven’t yet been briefed on the nature of each, have you?”

Byleth shook her head.

“Do you really not know?” Manuela asked. When Byleth met her question with silence, Manuela continued. “Fine, I’ll do you a favor and explain. The Officers Academy is comprised of three houses of students, each of which is closely affiliated with its region of origin…”

While Hanneman and Manuela debriefed her on the nature of the three houses, Byleth made a mental checklist of what she would possibly need as a professor based on observing her former instructors. She recalled that the academy is a school of warfare, but what topics would she cover? What are her resources? What was her pay?

“To think that the next emperor, king, and sovereign duke are all here.” Hanneman noted. “It certainly is a promising year for the academy.”

“I’ll say.” Manuela said. “I just hope none of those little treasures cause any trouble.”

“Hm, quite.” Hanneman turned back to Byleth. “So, do you have any questions?”

“Do you use a set curriculum?”

Manuela eyes widened for a moment. “Oh, yes. I have a copy if you would like one to keep.” Byleth nodded, and Manuela reached for a notebook placed on a table, then paused. “You can read, can you?”

“I can.”

“Good.” She handed Byleth a notebook that consisted of a monthly course plan and a usual daily class schedule. “Classes are held Mondays through Saturdays, with flexibility for several days off each month for missions or schoolwide activities.”

“For now, I suggest taking a stroll around the academy to get your bearings. And when you’ve a moment, please stop by my research laboratory.”

“The old man has a point.” Manuela said. “Oh, and keep in mind that I’ve only notified the house leaders that you’re our new professor. It’s more fun that way. I suggest you try spending time with the students. Some odd ducks in that bunch, but they’re good kids. I’m sure Lady Rhea will have more information for you tomorrow, but that should get you going. Good luck. You’ll need it.”

* * *

A few hours later, Byleth was sitting beside her father in the dining hall for dinner before the kitchens closed for the night. The students had already filed through and had their share of food, so Byleth didn’t catch an opportunity to talk with any of them yet. She would have to wait for tomorrow, she decided.

Several knights and mercenaries also remained, finishing up their late meals. Some had to wait longer for their meals due to an accident in the kitchen resulting in an explosion. Regardless, the meal, a vegetable stir-fry, was more delicious than what Byleth was used to; it was comparable to home-cooked meals from villagers or in taverns.

“I’m to be one of the three homeroom professors.” Byleth explained to her father. “I have until Thursday morning to meet the students and choose which of the houses to lead this year.”

“Hm.” Jeralt sipped at his ale.

“Father, do they actually believe I can teach?”

Jeralt grunted. “Alois seems to think so.” Another swig of ale.

But where would he…?

Oh.

He must have observed her sparring with the house leaders last night, and used that as his evidence that she could teach. Was that experience really going to be enough?

Byleth is going to have to make it so.

When they quietly finished with their meals, they were led to two small rooms in the knights’ hall that would serve as each of their quarters for a couple of days. Over the next couple days, arrangements would be made for Byleth to have her own room closer to the Officers Academy and Jeralt’s room to be the captain’s quarters. Before Jeralt closed himself into his room, Byleth asked him one more question.

“What do you look for when accepting or turning down mercenaries?”

Jeralt paused to ponder for a few moments. He knew quickly that Byleth intended to apply his thought process to her house selection. “I have two words of advice: Good luck.”

“Already heard those words.” Byleth replied, mildly amused by her father’s joke. “Got anything else?”

Jeralt nodded. “First, look at each individual’s strengths and weaknesses. You want a group with a large variety of skills.”

Byleth nodded. When he didn’t say anything right away, “what is the second?” she asked.

“Watch how each person gets along with each other and you. This can be more important than skill diversity. Trust in each other to do their part can be the most effective trait a team can acquire.”

Byleth considered pressing her father further for a more thorough explanation, but she sensed her father’s weariness. “Thank you. Good night.”

“Good night, kiddo.”

Byleth fell asleep quicker than she anticipated that night. She managed to wear herself out by reading Manuela’s notebook and pondering on how she would teach the topics expected for the upcoming month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally planning on ending this at Chapter 4, just before Byleth chooses a house, but the getting-to-know-the-students plot line has been taking me longer than I anticipated. Long enough to make me question whether I'll finish it or not. I guess time will tell.
> 
> As for what's currently here, feel free to wager a guess on which class I think Byleth is most likely to choose. I tried to remove any bias toward a house leader to allow the story to flow any way like in the game, but outside opinions are much better at determining bias or the lack thereof than my own.


End file.
